My "Images" (a term I stole from Suki) are short ideas, images,
and sketches written for the amusement of and offered as tribute
to my Liege and Lady. They were always longer and never so well
crafted as Suki's short masterpieces, and over time, my Images
files began to include various email excerpts and other works
in progress or ideas for works and became more journal than art,
so some juxtapositions may seem odd.
Some of my Images follow. They are generally cruel and
nonconsensual and of interest only to sickphuxs, so please
read no further if such doesn't appeal to you.
The Images are impurely the products of a warped imagination, and
should not be seen as a reflection of the scene, nor should they be
imitated by anyone not interested in a protracted term as the ward
of the state.
Steven S. Davis
------------------------
"Barbecue" (femdom, F/M, torture)
"You rest, now, love. You did very well today, everyone
had a marvelous time, and I'm quite proud of you. Now
you don't have to do anything but rest for a couple days",
she said.
"Thank you, my Lady", he weakly replied, before she smiled
at him and stroked his hair and then turned out the light
and proudly strode away.
He wouldn't have any trouble obeying her. Not that he
ever did, but right now there wasn't a lot he could do
but rest, after the day's ordeals.
A barbecue she'd said. A nice traditional way to celebrate
the opening of the summer season (however unfortunate it
might be that the same day also served as the day to remember
war dead). He was used to serving at her parties, sometimes
in some unusual ways. But she'd told him that he wouldn't
have to do anything at this event, which upset him a bit until
she assured him that he'd not done anything to upset her and
that he was in quite good standing with all her friends, and
that had nothing to do with why he wouldn't have to do anything
at the barbecue. He'd sought to know more but she shut him down.
Hers to know and his to do, if she didn't want him knowing more
that was her privilege and his privilege was to serve and obey
her.
He helped with the standard preparations, and with some
unusual ones, including digging a long bit and setting up
a turning spit and getting a lot of wood, all this in addition
to readying the grills and getting charcoal for the burgers
and franks and steaks. She seemed to have something ambitious
in mind but she wouldn't say what it was. He certainly mixed
up a lot of two sorts of barbecue sauces for her. He mentioned
as politely that he could that he didn't think much of the sauces,
the one was too sweet and the other too hot and both were too thin,
but she shushed him.
When the day came he was quite busy setting up and greeting her
guests. Things were somewhat rushed, since the guests were coming
rather early, he thought. She'd invited all kinksters to this
party, all femdoms and their submissives whether male or female,
and since everyone was kinky he wasn't extremely surprised when she
instructed that he would be meeting people naked except for shackles
and handcuffs. The handcuffs were a nuisance but he'd learned how to
do most things while his hands were cuffed in front of him. No one
found it strange that he was walking around naked and chained and the
looks and smiles he was getting were all friendly and indulgent. At
least the looks from the dommes were; some of the submissives were
giving him rather quick smiles and not saying much. Perhaps it was
awkward for them that he was the the only one undressed so far.
So far he'd been working plenty, which was fine with him but he
wondered what she'd meant that he wouldn't be serving today. If
he was going to be busy a quick bite would be nice, she'd not
let him eat last night or any breakfast and the enema she'd given
him suggested he'd be doing anal play today, not his favorite
but whatever pleased her was his pleasure also. But when he asked
if he should get a quick snack so he could serve throughout the
day, she just smiled enigmatically.
"Now that everyone's here, and the preparations are all complete,
you won't have to do anything else today, boy", his Mistress
told him. He looked at her quizzically and she just said "Heel"
and walked past him with him following a step behind and to her right.
Several femdoms followed them, eyeing him rather wickedly. His Lady
stopped and turn and said "Chains off" and the ladies near him
quickly got them off him and she said "Down", and he knelt and she
said "prostrate" and he lay before her face down, and a couple
women knelt by him and began binding him, rolling him over as required.
Being tied by several eager femdoms was an exciting experience.
Being vigorously scrubbed and hosed by them was less pleasant but
still interesting.
It was when they spread the plastic on the grass, and laid many
ropes across it, and then took the spit from where it rested
and laid it atop the ropes that he finally suspected. When
several women picked him up and carried him to the spit, he
knew. What did she have in mind ? Even if he had been finding
a lot of Dolcet cartoons for her he knew that neither she nor
any of the women evilly leering at him would hurt him - well,
they wouldn't do anything permanently damaging. And the fact
they were tying him - very tightly - to the spit instead of
impaling him on it meant this wouldn't be a literal reproduction
of a Dolcet scene. But when they lit the mix of mesquite and
other woods and some herbs in the long pit and watched him
watching the fire burn, he couldn't help wondering if he knew
them as well as he thought. He saw one woman handling an
apple eagerly and then saw it cored and a cord put through
it, but no one approached him yet. Perhaps they were waiting
for him to protest or question. Well, they'd have a long wait,
he'd not question or object to his Lady's decisions regarding
him (not that it would make a difference if he did, which made
his forbearance easier).
He thought, perhaps wishfully, that they seemed impressed
with his acceptance (though some seemed disappointed that
he wasn't expressing more fear), and they didn't use the
apple on him as several of them hefted the spit and carried
it to the pit, the fire in which had burned down some,
and put the spit in place over it. However much he trusted,
the look on his face as he was carried to and placed over the
fire was gratifying to the sadistic sisters, because however
much he tried to stay silent he couldn't help being scared
and couldn't help wondering if it was really possible.
Not in front of some many witnesses - but it was a much smaller
number of people than she usually invited, and it was unusual
for her to invite only kinksters - and only, he was realizing,
very hard core ones - to this event. None of her family or
neighbors were coming. Still, she wouldn't... no, she wouldn't.
The flame was low enough not to be burning him, but he knew
it would if he stayed like this long. Hanging from the ropes
he rather regretted not have lost some weight, all his weight
pressing on those sharp but fortunately not smaller cords
around him was already becoming unbearable and breathing was
difficult (the smoke didn't help, though even without it he'd
suffocate from his own weight hanging against the ropes eventually,
so the issue of smoking being unhealthy for a person wasn't foremost
in his mind). But then both problems were solved, for a moment,
when his Lady began turning the spit and the heat touch a different
part of him and for a short time his weight was laying against the
spit instead of against the ropes holding him to it. Which wasn't
very comfortable either but it didn't last long. Which would seem
to be what made his situation just barely bearable. As long as
the spit turned he got some chance to breath and his front
and back each got successive moment's relief from the heat and he
didn't burn. But he had to keep moving constantly or he'd burn
or suffocate of both, and his Lady couldn't turn the spit all
day.
But it seemed she wouldn't have to, as she stepped away from it
and another domme took it, and his Lady bent at the knee to look
him in the face and ask him "Do you accept your fate ?" and he
swallowed, or tried to, and croaked out "Yes, my love", risking
being somewhat impudent in addressing her as if he were her equal,
but if he was right about her he had nothing to fear - well,
noting but prolonged agony, which actually was rather fearsome -
and if he was wrong about her he had nothing to lose. She smiled
and walked away, saying "keep him turning, we want this to be a
slow roasting".
She went back to socializing with her guests as his eyes followed
her, at least during one part of his rotation, noting that she
was barely looking at him at all even if many others did (though
he couldn't see how much she watched when his face was the other
way, then turned away as he started coming around, nor did he realize
how many reflective surfaces were positioned around the yard in which
the spit and pit could be seen). Even with the turning his skin was
retaining heat from when it was over the fire and was a bit hotter
each time it passed over the heat than it had been the last time,
so no matter how they turned him he would still cook if left on the
spit for very long. If she didn't take him off the spit or do something
soon... well, if she didn't, then maybe this really was the end.
Could she really be doing this... no, don't be silly, it's not possible,
he knew.
But he was so damned hot....
"Let's marinade the man, now that he's heated up nicely - not
that you aren't always hot to me, boy - start brushing that sauce
over him", and several people began brushing the sweet, and,
thankfully, chilled sauce over him. Thin enough to spread even
when cold, it went over his burning - or nearly so - skin and
chilled it enough to make the heat bearable. Sweet enough to
attract insect, this would be a minor annoyance (fortunately
he wasn't allergic to bee stings, and since he couldn't move he
wasn't likely to get stung) amidst all the other discomforts.
More of a problem for him was that the brushes giving him lifesaving
coolness also tickled terribly, especially when used on the soles
of his feet, which, never being exposed to direct heat, didn't need
the cooling effect, but that wasn't stopping one of the dommes from
brushing his feet quite diligently. Oh, damn, he thought, it hurts
to laugh when tied like this; he wondered how to get this discovery
out, since talking hadn't been easy even before the brushing started,
but he saw enough wicked laughter from the observers to know that
they already knew this.
They started laughing even more, and he wondered why, and then saw
a second bowl, and as the sauce from this bowl was brushed over
his cock and poured over his balls and the futile attempt at squirming
that the tickling had caused were greatly intensified but against
these tight cords were equally futile, but his struggles and moans
*were* successful at entertaining the guests as he felt a terrible
burning in his loins, one more literally the the one his Lady usually
caused and much more intense than the heat from the fire had been
causing.
So now, when he was able to think, between the frequent distractions
of those brushes and the intermittent mind-filling pain from the
hot sauce on his cock and balls, he knew that he'd been silly to
even briefly wonder if his Mistress might have meant this as a
farewell party for him, that she'd of course planned it all so he
was in no danger - ah, well, no danger of death or lasting injury,
though plenty of danger of terrible pain which was going to get
worse the longer this went on and how long could she mean that
to be, and when his mind could work, when neither the brushes
where driving him crazy nor the ball-burning making him scream
(however hard it was to scream when he could barely breathe,
he did have a mouth and he must scream), nor the rising heat
of his skin making him think only of when the brushing would come
again, when he could think he realized why people had arrived
so early and when he was turned the right way he could see no
grills had been lit yet, so this was meant to be a long event.
And no danger, well, it wasn't as if there was no danger.
Without being constantly turned and frequently cooled, it
wasn't a risk of death on this spit, not unless 100% probability
can be called a risk. Would they manage to keep someone with
him all day... if they didn't he was certain to die.
Which perhaps should have filled him with dread, but in
the bizarre workings and strange gratitudes of the submissive
mind (or at least this perhaps especially strange and bizarre
one) it left him feeling touched and secure and cared for,
knowing that, as they had been so far, all day and into the
evening there would alway be two femdoms standing close by
him and working very hard to keep him alive, and that before
the day would end all of them would take several turns caring
for him. And enjoying his suffering, which would be immense
even without the tickling and the hot sauce on his balls.
Of course they put on a front that it was all sadistic
interest on their part, in the early hours asking him three
or four times if he wanted some water for each time that
they gave him any, gleefully refusing him the other times
he said "yes" but always making sure he stayed hydrated enough
to endure this, and later as his mind became to overwhelmed
by the varying but unrelenting pain for him to think or speak
they just squirted water in his mouth and were more openly
concerned as they checked him, thinking they didn't need to
maintain the appearance of being purely sadistic (but not
being able to think or speak didn't mean not be able to see
or remember and before he did lose perception he would have
several fondly remembered images of vicious femsadists
looking over him with care and concern and fondness between
periods of sadism and some memories of his Lady's proud and
loving looks as he disappointed some dommes and thrilled
others by never once asking for mercy.
When they decided it needed to stop and lifted him away
from the pit and untied him, he couldn't remember. And
sadly for him, he barely remembered so many people
licking/sucking the sauce off him nor the laughter of
the dommes when the femsubs had to suck his cock and
would go gasping in search of milk, or icewater when they
realized that someone had emptied all the milk containers.
But he'd come around enough to remember his Lady and a couple
friends washing him and rubbing him and pouring water into
him as they praised him, and he'd remember that for a long
time.
-----------------------
"Another quick Image"
"Hello, boy", she said as she walked into the room.
"Did you have a nice day off ?"
The groan that came out from under the hood suggested
that perhaps it had not been. When he'd said he
wanted to take a day off and just hang out, she'd
agreed it was a good idea. He'd not expected her
to drag him from bed that morning and tie his hands
together then lead him to the basement and put the
rope to his hands through a ring and raise them above
his head, then tie each ankle and pull it towards
a ring in the floor, leaving his legs spread wide
and his arms's painfully stretched as he stood
on tip-toe, nor that she'd cut away his briefs
and tie ropes around his scrotum and cock and hang
a brick from his balls and a set of quite annoying
windchimes from his cock and then cleave gag him
and hood him and walk away saying "I think having
you hang out all day is a *very* good idea". He
certainly didn't think, after she closed and locked
the basement door, that she was really going to go to
work and leave him there all day. Even after the
first couple taunting messages left on the answering machine
she'd moved to the basement so he could hear her
say how hot the thought of him suffering was making her
and how ready she'd be to use him when she got home,
he was sure she'd pop in from oustide the basement any
minute now and let him down. Surely she wouldn't actually
make him stand all day on tiptoes with his legs trembling and
screaming and his arms and shoulders aching amd his balls
painfullly stretched.
But when the clock radio came on and he heard the noon news,
and he knew she'd put that there for him to hear and knew
it really had been four hours, it wasn't just the incredible
pain making it seem so very long, and he knew that she also
wanted him to know that six hours of this agony awaited him,
already he couldn't stand it, but there was more of it in
front of him then there was behind him, and it would get worse
every minute, and there was nothing that he could do about
it or that anyone else would do about it, and he was sure she'd
closed and locked her office door and was masturbating now to
the thought of his becoming aware of his plight, that she'd
come and be able to get through the day despite her building
excitement but he would get no relief to help him somehow
bear this, he would simply have to endure the unendurable
until she decided otherwise.
The hours and the agony stretched on with nothing else
to help him gauge the passing of time, and no way for
him to know at 6:00 that she was late or that 8:00
came and went and then 9:00; when your suffering is
an eternity there's no way to know that eternity has
gotten longer. So when she came in at 10:30 he
only knew he'd suffered a very long time, not that
she'd left him there four hours longer than the duration
that he'd never believed she'd inflict on him or that
he could possibly bear.
But she'd be sure he knew.
"I asked a couple of the girls if they'd like to go
for a drink after work, and we had a great time.
Thinking about you had me *sooo* hot and everyone
could see it and when the married girls went home
I put a move on Anne-marie and we went back to her
place and had the hottest sex. So I don't really
need you after all, dear", she said as she moved
the horse over.
"But", she said as she brought his hands down
and pushed his exhausted body over the horse
and then tied his hands to the floor, "I do
want you". And she proceeded to collect
her strapon and a pair of straps, and took
the lube gun from the refrigerator and squuezed
some very cold lube around and into his ass,
and then beat his ass for awhile, and then started
fucking his ass as she beat his shoulders and back
with the straps until she came again.
Later, laying atop him, she murmurred "I've
been dreaming of that all day, boy. Even when
Anne-marie's tongue was making me scream I was
still dreaming of beating and fucking you."
"And of doing this", she said as she took off his
hood, and as his eyes adjusted slowly to the
unaccustomed light, he saw the largest dildo
he'd ever seen. "Of showing you this before
I shove it up your ass".
The one she actually put into him was much less
massive. But it was quite enough to stretch
him, and since at this point he knew better than
to put anything beyond her and his ass was already
sore from the fucking she'd given him, he never
realized he'd not taken the monster.
Some day, when he thought he knew what was coming next,
he'd find that out, and be reminded once again that he
could never know what she would do to him.
----------------------------------------------
"The Glass"
"OWW !"
"Poor baby. Are the ropes tight ?"
"Yes, my Lady, very".
"Good. Just a couple more tugs....there."
"Ugh... please, Mistress, you've nearly got my arms pulled
out".
"Hardly, boy. But I do have you stretched very tautly, and
I doubt you can move anything now....well, aside from this,
which still moves, see...."
"Yesssss, maam".
"But this and your other head are the only things you can move ?"
"Yes, maam",
"Then I think I can take off the blindfold", she said, and
she did. But only after gagging him quite securely.
Leaving him looking at a large magnifing glass positioned over
his balls, and the one shaft of light coming through a narrowly
opened blind, which fortunately was not going through the
magnifying glass.
"Does it seem to you that I need to adjust the glass ?", she asked.
He said nothing, too scared to try to grunt an answer.
"Well", she continued, "I don't. I've recorded carefully, and in
an hour that light will be on your balls. A bit intensified this
time. I hear tell that every boy has done mean things with a
magnifying glass. And, given you boys and your obsession with cock
size, I'm sure you must turn a magnifying glass in yourself from
time to time. So I thought this would be fun. You get to spend an
hour waiting for the sun to start going through the lens and onto
your balls. Which are going to be right where they are now because
you're stretched too tautly to move. In an hour that's going to be
very painful. But perhaps you'll find something to distract you
from that discomfort", she said as she leaned back and crossed her
legs and picked up a magazine. "I'll be here watching. Do you think
that if it gets very bad for you that I'll help you ?", she asked.
"Well, we'll just have to see about that", she said, smiling wickedly
before turning back to her magazine, leaving him alternately looking
at her and at the beam of light, and futilely (but, to her amusement,
also painfully) pulling at his bonds.
-----------------------------------
"Daddy", F/m, CNC, ageplay (?)
[ I can't know how you feel about scenes that contain
an implication of ageplay (and I'm not even sure
if this scene does, which shows how unfamiliar
- if interesting - an area this is for me; I don't
think it does, since neither person is actually pretending
the bottom is a child, but some my find an ageplay vibe to
this). Nor can I know how consensual nonconsent in a scene
of extreme sadism effects you. If any of this distresses
you, then you should skip the following Image.]
----
[I mentioned to a friend that another friend
had written me "Uncle !" after receiving one
of my Images, and she replied that she bet
I never thought I'd be called that]
Well, I'd never thought about being called that.
If I ever had thought of it occurring (and I realize this
isn't the direction your thoughts tend to go and I hope you
won't mind the direction), I would have thought that perhaps
sometime a woman, naked except for thigh-high stockings,
high heels, elbow length black gloves, and wide collar,
laying on her stomach, her legs spread and tied in place,
her thick wide collar chained to the end of the bed, and
her madly, but futilely, twisting hands tied behind her,
receiving a long, slow, methodical (but not predictable),
and quite severe caning of her ass, might call "uncle" among
many other things ("stop", "red", "safeword", etc). To most
of which I'd had no response, save perhaps one "no" to one of
her many "stops" or "stop it" and perhaps a "thank you" when
she called "safeword", just before a series of sharp cane
strokes assured her that however pleased I was with her
safewording, I wasn't stopping, and I wasn't simply adding
one or two or even three, four, or five strokes past safeword
for effect, so she could feel that her safeword wasn't controlling.
That, in fact, I enjoyed knowing she was past the limit of what
she could voluntarily endure, and liked being there, and had no
intention of stopping simply because we had gone past what it was
within her ability to offer me current consent to. Perhaps besides
thanking her for safewording I'd offer her an assurance or two that
I wasn't at all angry at her for safewording nor in the least
disappointed in her, and that the continuing canestrokes were
coming in no way as punishment, and entirely because it gave me
great pleasure to keep making her suffer even, and especially,
knowing that she couldn't will herself to take it any more, and
I'd tell her that she could relax now and stop her brave struggle
to bear it, that I'd simply continue and she didn't need to do
anything nor was there anything she *could* do, the caning was
simply going to continue no matter what she said or did or whether
she could bear it or not, until such time as I opted to stop. And
that I'd not hold her responsible for anything she said or did at
this point.
Eventually, when her ass was well covered, I would stop caning her
ass, and tell her that I was doing so. Before rolling down her
stockings and caning her thighs, and putting a few strokes across
her shoulder blades. Then I'd sit by her and squeeze and rub and
pinch her buttocks, perhaps take hairbrush and use the bristly side
of the brush on her ass for awhile.
But as to when she cried "Uncle"....
It would, of course, depend upon my knowledge of her and her
reactions to certain words and how certain ideas impacted her,
and w/o knowing with an extremely high degree of confidence
what this word and the ideas associated with it would mean to her
I would not react to her saying "Uncle". But if my confidence
were sufficiently high, I might perhaps stop briefly, grasp
the hair behind her head and turn her face to look at me and
say. "No, little girl, I'm not your Uncle, I'm your Daddy, and
Daddy is going to beat his very sexy little girl because Daddy
likes it very much when his pretty baby cries and screams and
especially when she begs for mercy because he does *soooo*
enjoy showing no mercy at all. And when Daddy has beat his
sexy slut of a babygirl till Daddy can't stand it anymore,
which is going to be way past what Daddy's precious little
girl can stand, Daddy is going to fuck you very, very hard".
And then resume the caning. Until she'd lost all track of
time and any hope of it every stopping.
And then I'd fuck her while telling her what a sexy little
girl she is and how good a fucktoy and torture toy she made
and how much Daddy liked making his little girl into a toy
for him to use any way it pleased him to use her and quite
without any regard for how she might want or not want to be
used.
Then I'd let her recover for awhile (while I also recover).
And then inform her that her happy time of not being responsible
for what she said or did was past. That I was shortly going to
start paddling her ass. And that she was going to have to say
"One Daddy, Thank you, Daddy, may I please suck your cock ?"
and then "Two, Daddy, Thank you Daddy, may your little girl
please suck your cock ?" and so on, and if she didn't give
the count correctly and thank her Daddy each time, and if
she didn't ask if she may please suck his cock in a slightly
different way each time, the count would have to start over
(she might perhaps notice that no number of paddle strokes
had been given and so the actual import of starting the count
over was nonexistent, or she might not). She'd be informed
that if she was a bad little girl and did not do as Daddy
said, he would cane her thighs again and this time he would
be cross with her and even after she did behave properly
- which she would, eventually - she'd have to get an additional
caning of her thighs as punishment for being a bad little girl,
and he'd have to hang her upside down so he could cane her
thighs all the way around until there wouldn't be any part
of her thighs that wouldn't be covered by a welt, and he
surely hoped, for his little girl's sake, that she was going
to be a good little girl, and do as Daddy said. And then the
paddling would begin.
And when she asked if she could suck Daddy's cock, I'd say
"No, dear, but if you ask again very sweetly, maybe then you
can suck my cock" and she'd have to continue asking in different
ways until she asked sweetly enough (which would probably be
whatever way she asked at about the time I determined that she
couldn't go on much longer, and she'd then be allowed to stop
the paddling by sucking my cock at the point when the paddling
would have stopped anyway).
[FWIW, were I bottoming to a scene like this, I don't
think calling my dominant "Mommy" would distress me
but neither would it at any time carry an erotic thrill
and, FWIW2, I wouldn't pitch a scene like this unless
I were very highly confident that "Daddy" did have an
erotic thrill for her and also that it would stir up
no destructive feelings in her]
----------------------------------------------
--------------
"The Guest"
"I don't want you leering at my guest. When she's
present you are to keep your eyes respectfully averted.
You're not to ignore her and I expect you to be properly
courteously, attentive, helpful, and deferential at all
times. But she isn't here to be oogled and you are not
to look directly at her unless so directed. Eyes on the
floor - and I don't mean stare at her shoes - the rest of
the time. You'll see enough to know when to respond
to her without eyeballing her all the time. Just cause
you'd enjoy looking her over is no reason for you to do
so."
"Yes, My Lady", he replied. But he was surprised and
somewhat taken aback by her statement. He'd never
known his Mistress to favor any sort of "eyes downcast"
protocol before, nor was he aware that he'd ever offended
any of her guests or friends - nor anyone else - with
his glances. Their mutual friend certainly knew he found
her attractive and never seemed to mind this fact. His
Lady had never seemed to mind either; that she might be
jealous or threatened or that their friend might be
self-conscious or uncomfortable, none of this fit. He
had no idea what any of this was about or if or how someway
sometime he had in some way upset one of them, but he couldn't
explain it without his having done something to offend one
or both of them (of course, offending her friend or any guest
would offend his Mistress). He wished he knew what this was
about, it was distressing to give offense but even more so
to have done so not knowing when or how.
"I'm going to help you behave", she continued. "This visor
I'm putting on you records what you see via a wireless
transmission. And a computer program with Kim's picture
programmed into it will record every second that she, or
some part of her, is in the center of your view. I'll be
checking that record and you'll be punished for each second
that you are eyeballing her. Do you understand ?"
"Not really, My Lady. May I ask...."
"No, you may not. You are not to look directly at her,
and every furtive glance will be recorded and you will be
punished for each second spent looking at her. Is that
clear to you ?", she demanded.
"Yes, Mistress".
"Good".
----
For some reason I don't seem to be able to get motivated
to write "The Guest", so perhaps I'll preserve some of
the idea for a later time, and maybe also amuse you a little,
by writing about that prospective story/image.
It was to involve someone whose one real fear was being
dismissed by his Mistress. Whose one great fear was losing
him, and there were times when the kinder and gentler side
of her did ache to tell him that and let him know that he
would never be in danger of being sent away. But she *was*
a sadist and a dominant and she knew that one way to
frighten him (for she did like seeing him scared) without
risking either damage or rebellion was to play upon his insecurity,
and she knew that while he feared dismissal she had power
over him. Without that fear, well, she expected she'd still
get devoted service, but somehow it didn't seem it'd ever be
the same to her; the fear of dismissal was the lever that
forced him to do what she wanted, without it he'd do what
she wanted because it pleased him to please her, and while
she loved that, she also loved that sense of making him do
things, and it was only his fear of dismissal that gave her
that kind of power over him. So she was never going to tell
him that she would never let him be lost to her, and even
if she sometimes felt some pangs of pain at doing this to
him (and, of course, great thrills at other times), she would
cultivate and exploit his fear.
Her friend, and his, is coming to visit. She knows that
had things been different, he might have ended up as her
friend's sub (her friend and her sub know this as well).
No one wants to change what is, and she trusts her friend
and her sub, neither of whom would hurt her, so she doesn't
mind this, nor object to her sub's attraction to her friend
(she knows that he's a male and therefore a pig-dog, but
he's a trustworthy pig-dog). Her friend trusts her and her
sub well enough to be comfortable with the situation and to
be able to enjoy his admiration. She'd never hurt either of
them by trying to change it their situation, and, cruel sadist
that she is, she'd never want to see her submale friend suffer
the pain of losing his Lady. But she's sadistic enough to enjoy
playing with his fear. So the two dommes are conspiring with
each other to use his fear and his lust (that he's a lusty male
pig-dog they both quite like, but that doesn't mean they won't
make him suffer for it).
So on her visit they are going to bewilder him with a rule
forbidding him from looking at the guest. This is quite far
from his understanding, and given his insecurity he's going
to assume there is something wrong and that he has done something
wrong and is responsible for this turn of events and almost
certainly in serious trouble. His Mistress won't explain anything
- she doesn't need to explain or justify anything to him - and
she will allow him to perceive her as displeased with him,
which means he's going to be scared and seeking hard to be
pleasing to her.
But he does have certain limits. And not looking at a sexy
woman who's shamelessly teasing and provoking him and pushing
every button that she knows of (and she knows them all, because
his Mistress is telling her his every weakness). Despite being
ordered not to look at her, given that he also must be polite
and deferential to her and observe her to see to her needs,
if she's going to work at making him look, well, he's going to
look. He just can't help that, and both women know that he can't
not look, and he can't not respond to what he sees. This doesn't
anger or offend them, they actually find it rather endearing, and
this is what he expects.
So the fact that now they are both going to seem to be very upset
with him is going to have him confused and frightened and utterly
off-balance and trying to be very, very good. Which includes
obeying the order to not look, but he won't be able to, and this
is something he can't forgive nearly as much as the women can.
He'll know that he's been doing wrong, and so he'll be feeling
guilty as well as scared and confused and be quite expecting
to be sent away for disobeying and angering his Lady and for
offending his friend, and offending her, when she's a guest in
his Lady's home, and even if his lady might forgive him for
something else, she'll surely never forgive *that*.
And even if said guest *had* spent a lot of time lounging
about seductively in heels and hose and lingerie and demanding
that the sub attend her closely, well, if that's how she wants
to spend her visit, it's not his place to question.
Since he'll know he's been looking, it doesn't really matter
whether the device that registers when he's looking works or
not, he'll know he's been guilty of looking a lot (and if the
device does work, it will probably record much less time spent
oogling the guest than he thinks was spent that way (he *is*
trying to resist, after all)).
So, after enjoying teasing him mercilessly for a day or so.
and enjoying the knowledge that he can't *not* look at
her lustfully, the guest and her friend get to sit
sternly (after practicing a great deal to not laugh (and
often failing in private, when they often giggled at his
plight (including the one when they observe him waiting in
a room where his Mistress has left dozens of seductive
photos of the guest, and if they can just possible manage
to walk-in on him when looking at one of them and touching
himself, well, that would be great)) and look down on him
as he kneels frightened and forlorn, knowing he's failed
miserably, that he's disobeyed his lady and offended
her friend in her house, he's disgraced himself, and far worse,
disgraced his Lady, and he's going to lose forever both his lady
and his friend both of whom he's hurt, and it's all his fault and
he deserves their scorn and anger and dismissal, and he's kneeling
before them trembling and struggling to maintain composure as
they sit silently (if sexily) looking sadly at him, dragging out
the moment while he's waiting for the richly deserved order to
get up and walk out the door and never darken their lives any
further in any way with any sort of presence. Which he'll do,
and of walking out of the room, the house, and their lives
would kill him it would be a great mercy because at that point
living is going to be beyond bearing.
But while he dare not hope (and certainly could not possibly
ask) for forgiveness, he also dare not let go of that hope, since
it's the only thing which make enduring possible at this point.
And so they let him kneel and tremble and his emotions churn inside
inside him till they've almost torn him apart and when he's all but
lost that tiny bit of hope he was hopelessly clinging to, they finally
speak. And the guest says that, well, she can forgive him for his
offense against her, and as for his disobedience, well, he's not
her submissive. And his Mistress says that if her guest can forgive him,
and forgive her for the offense given in her house, then she can consider
offering him a second chance, and of course he does, and his gratitude to
them both is so overwhelming, he'll do anything if he can be forgiven
and given a second chance, and the women agree that he will have to be
punished severely (by bearing some quite dreadful torture for some
multiple of the time he looked at the guest, and if that time is greatly
overstated, he probably won't realize and certainly won't say it.
Whatever they might want to do to him at this point is fine, he's
grateful to them for their forgiveness and for this chance to redeem
himself.
And so the women get to put him through some very long and
excruciating tortures, all the while receiving his gratitude for their
kindness and his continued apologies for his offense. Which is all
doubly sweeter for the women who know that he did only what they wanted
him to do, and that they manipulated him into it and gave him no chance
to do otherwise. And now he's going to suffer terribly for it, and when
this is all over, he's going to even more devoted to them and more
deeply bonded to his Mistress, who would not generally consider putting
him through the sort of hellish tortures she has planned for him lest
it be too much and he rebel, but now she can do almost anything to him
and when it's done he'll be more grateful and devoted to her than before,
an outcome that would be highly pleasing to her even were it not so
delightfully twisted and deliciously ironic.
---------------------